


You Can Only Lean on Me For So Long

by patientalien



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Depression, F/M, References to the Eurovision Song Contest, Thor Needs a Hug (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/pseuds/patientalien
Summary: "Valkyrie should have known something like this would happen eventually. Living and working in close quarters, shared trauma, shared stress… all of that alone would set them up for this easily.Then add in the aquavit, and Valkyrie /really/ should have seen this coming."Valkyrie's relationship with Thor is complicated. Or, two and a half times Val and Thor have sex, and two and a half times they didn't.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Thor (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. how can something so wrong feel so right

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how or why this happened, but it did.

Valkyrie should have known something like this would happen eventually. Living and working in close quarters, shared trauma, shared stress… all of that alone would set them up for this easily. 

Then add in the aquavit, and Valkyrie  _ really  _ should have seen this coming. 

It happens the first time on an overnight trip to Oslo, a chance to foster goodwill with Norway's remaining government, about a year into their rebuilding. Thor hadn't been exaggerating when he said he was popular on Earth; most of the meeting is spent taking photos and signing autographs. Thor takes it all in stride, though Valkyrie can see the darkness behind his falsely-smiling eyes. 

The meetings ended, successful in their requests for further use of Norway's fishing grounds and power grid, and the two Asgardians walk down the street as a light shower of snow starts to dust the shoulders of Thor's dark jacket. He's got his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his head down. 

Valkyrie brushes his arm. "Your Majesty?" she asks. She doesn't have to call him that; they're friends. But he's also her king, and she likes to remind him of that when it seems like he's starting to forget. Like now, lost in his head, in his misery, despite their victory.

"Huh?" Thor asks, jerking his head up. "Did you say something?"

She sighs; this distracted mood has been a constant since… well, since she had hugged him and then punched him for making her crazy with worry, for making her lead what little left of their people to this backwater Realm. Since then, Thor has been there but not. Helping but holding back. Ruling, but more as a glorified rubber stamp than anything else. 

She grabs his arm. "Come on," she says, dragging him across the street to the bright spill of light and sound coming from a business a block away. 

It seems like the remaining half of Oslo's inhabitants are all crammed into the nightclub, sweating and dancing and drinking like it's the end of the world.

Valkyrie supposes it sort of is.

It reminds her of Sakaar, the decadence and the wild abandon. It makes her want a taste of it again, just for a moment. She drags Thor by the wrist to the bar, ignoring how he seems to be dragging his heels a bit. 

She's been good. She's been sober, for the most part. She's doing her duty to Asgard and her king, but tonight both she and her king could use a break. 

"Oi!" she yells over the din, slamming her hand on the bar to get the bartender's attention. In another life, she would have flirted with the pretty mortal who comes over, but in this life she asks what the strongest spirit they've got is, and is handed two small glasses filled with a clear liquid the bartender tells her is called aquavit. 

She hands both glasses to Thor and orders two more for herself. "Both for me?" Thor asks and she nods, watching him swallow them down in quick succession. 

She does the same, relishing the burn down her throat and into her stomach. "Let's dance," she suggests, tugging at his jacket. Just tonight, let her feel normal again. Let her let her hair down tonight, and tomorrow she'll go back to being Thor's second in command. 

Thor looks reluctant, but like he's warring with a desire to do exactly what she wants to be doing - letting off steam, forgetting his worries for just an hour or two. She thinks he's going to refuse, but then the song changes and his face breaks into a smile. "I know this one!" he exclaims, and then it's him grabbing her wrist and dragging her onto the dance floor.

She should have seen it coming. They stop dancing only to keep drinking, and at some point everything starts blurring together in warm streaks of light and sound, but always with Thor's hands on her shoulders, her waist. Her hips. Her ass. Her breasts.

Any other time, she would have stabbed him without a second thought, would have chopped off his hand for daring to get familiar. But it's been ages, and Thor is ready and willing and just as desperate for connection and comfort. 

He sinks a kiss into the cleft between her neck and shoulder, and she grabs at the back of his jacket, her legs wrapped around his waist as he slams her against the wall of the bathroom stall. 

They both need this, and she lets them have it. 

Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. 

And it does, mostly. Thor pretends he's still sleeping when she slips from his bed in the early hours of the morning, crossing the hotel hallway to her own room. She pours herself a glass of wine from the mini bar - she thinks she remembers them emptying the one in Thor's - and sits in front of the mirror with it.

She looks the same. She feels the same. There's a deep ache that spreads from her midsection down to her feet that could only come from the strength of another Asgardian. No one on Sakaar had ever made her ache like this. Still, it's a physical ache and by the time she meets Thor down in the lobby so they can head home, she has decided not to dwell on things. 

Thor acts like he's completely unaware of the fact they had coupled, though she's certain he remembers if the way his gaze lingers and he pulls back on the shoulder brushing and general touchiness he's prone to are anything to go by. All the better. If they talk about it, it becomes a Thing, and Valkyrie certainly doesn't have the time nor desire to pursue a Thing right now, and certainly not with the god of thunder.


	2. come, come on baby we can get love on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Valkyrie attend a wedding.

The experience all but disappears into the back of her mind as the realities of day to day life in New Asgard reassert themselves. She and Thor work tirelessly - though often separately - to ensure the people have enough to eat, have warm and comfortable homes, feel cared for and safe in this new Realm, with their new King. Things feel like they're settling down into something almost mundane. 

She has a routine: get up with the sun, sometimes even before. Head down to the docks to help unload the daily catch. Thor usually joins her afterwards, telling her about this petition or that complaint, asking her advice. Asking her what she thinks his father might do. She tries to tell him, day after day, that he is not his father, that this is not the Asgard of old. That he's allowed to do things his own way if he wants to. 

It occurs to her that he might not know what his own way really is. 

She can tell it's causing him stress. Though honestly, a lot of things cause Thor stress these days. She's not an idiot, and she isn't blind. She sees what he avoids, and what he doesn't. She sees with an alcoholic's obsession how much he drinks when they eat together at dinner each night, making sure never to outpace him. She files it all away, but she keeps her distance from saying much more than "You're not your father. You're better. Kinder. Stronger. You've got this, Your Majesty." And Thor will square his jaw and look away and nod. 

Tonight, though, tonight Thor is smiling. Tonight, their King is presiding over a wedding, the first since… Well, since. He declares Lars and Sigrit man and wife and invites the gathered townsfolk - all of them crammed into the tavern, the one space large enough for everyone - to join him in a toast to the happy couple. He seems happy  _ for _ them, and Valkyrie is happy for  _ him _ . It's the first night in a while that she's seen him any sort of truly at ease. 

The band starts up. It's disconcerting, still, almost two years in, to hear Asgardian music played on Midgardian instruments. It's not quite right, but it doesn't sound bad either. It's something new, which she supposes is what Thor is trying to build here. It's an old traditional court song, something that once played during the huge weddings held for nobility at the palace. 

There's an accompanying dance, one Valkyrie finds she remembers more than she had expected she would. She gets pulled into it, and then realizes she's across the dance line from Thor. He grins at her. "Didn't think you knew this one!" he laughs as they link arms and spin around the dance floor.

"This dance is older than you are, Your Majesty!" she laughs back, letting him twirl her through a complicated set of steps. He's a good dancer, though Valkyrie supposes he would have to be, trained from birth to be the King of the Realm Eternal. He probably had all sorts of deportment training, not that he seems to ever remember it. One of the things she likes about him. 

The song ends and the spinning dance stops and Valkyrie heads to the bar to catch her breath, Thor barely two steps behind her. In moments, two glasses of aquavit are in her hands - when she turns, Thor's grin widens. "For me?" he asks. 

She hands them over, though she knows he's had plenty of ale tonight. It's a celebration, she excuses him. And herself, when she obtains two more glasses. 

"Play Ja Ja Ding Dong!" shouts Olaf Arnarson from the crowd, to the amusement of the assembled townsfolk.. It's a raunchy song, but one well-known in the taverns of Asgard. A song Valkyrie had heard at more than one wedding. One that had played at - well. She tries not to think about any of that. 

"You haveta play it!" Thor shouts over the din, jarring her from her bleak memories. "Ja Ja Ding Dong!" The King of New Asgard raises his remaining glass above his head and tosses his head back to laugh. 

Valkyrie can't help her responding grin as the band starts, reluctantly, to play. Thor downs his drink and grabs her hand. "Is this song older than me too?" he asks. 

"It certainly is," she responds, and lets him pull her onto the dance floor once more. It's every bit as intoxicating as the aquavit, to relish in the traditions she had given up so very long ago, to remember steps to dances she had left behind when her world had crumbled. 

It puts her a bit in awe of Thor, the fact he can put on this happy face, can move around the room as if he isn't carrying the weight of the universe on his broad shoulders. She doesn't dare say anything to remind him of any of that, though. Instead, she decides to let the night unfold as it will.

She and Thor stick close together as the party continues. They dance, and they drink, and Thor gives another speech at some point past Valkyrie's ability to even consider pretending to be sober. He nails it. She applauds and whistles when he's done, and the dopey look of pride on his face twists her insides. 

They stagger back to Thor's cabin together long after the newlyweds have said their goodnights, far beyond the point most of their people had gone home to bed. It hardly matters; tomorrow she will get up, and get back to their routine. 

Thor kisses her on the threshold of his house, dipping his head to cup the back of her neck, drawing her close to him, clinging as though she's the only thing keeping him from shattering into a thousand pieces. "Stay for a while?" he asks when he pulls away, and she can't think of the words to say no. 

He pulls out a couple of beers from his refrigerator, uncaps them on Stormbreaker. Even drunk as she is, it makes her wince - well, the action, and the small pile of bottlecaps that has accumulated underneath the axe. Still, she accepts the bottle. She wants him to kiss her again, wants to feel the thrill she'd felt in Oslo. It's a terrible idea, and she knows that, but he's there. He's willing. They both deserve some pleasure, she tells herself. And Thor has been working  _ so _ hard. 

"Your Majesty," she purrs. Thor sets his bottle on the counter with a hollow  _ thunk _ . 

"Don't call me that," he grumbles at her, head lowered, one hand curled around the beer, the other clenched at his side. 

"Thor." 

"You don't have to stay," he says, and all the cheer and joy from earlier is completely gone. He looks almost limp, almost immobile. "I - had a good time. Thanks. But you, ah, I know you probably -"

She takes a step forward and puts a hand on his chest. "Stop," she insists. "I'll stay." 

If she had been sober, she wouldn't have followed him into his bedroom, and certainly wouldn't have undressed slowly in front of him while he sat quiet and subdued on the bed. She wouldn't have gone down to her knees or taken him into her mouth. If she had been sober, she would have insisted he drink some water and go to sleep. Instead, she lets him lower her onto the mattress, lets him fill her and hold her against him. 

She pretends not to hear him weeping when they're done, and by the time the sun rises, she's dressed and gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is "Ja Ja Ding Dong", also from Eurovision: The Story of Fire Saga. You'll also notice cameos from a few characters from the movie; in this chapter its Lars, Sigrit, and Olaf.


	3. you seem so far away, though you are standing near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyrie hasn't seen Thor for almost a week and goes to check on him. She doesn't like what she finds.

Their routine continues, for a time. Valkyrie notices that Thor is coming to her for advice less, and sending his people to her for guidance directly. She notices that he is often late to his council meetings, when he shows up at all. She notices his hair and beard are starting to grow out, untamed and a bit unkempt. 

She notices his clothes are starting to stretch a bit around the arms and belly.

She notices he has started to even pull away from  _ her _ . Something is clearly wrong, not that anything is really  _ right _ anymore. Just - more wrong than usual. 

When it occurs to her that she hasn't actually seen him in almost a week, she makes her way to his cabin with a couple of pizzas and a case of beer. She's been trying to keep her drinking at bay; not buying the stuff to keep in her own home helps. Not allowing herself to drink alone helps too. But this is different, this is dinner and drinks with her king, a special occasion even if it's just cheap takeout and cheaper beer. 

She knocks on the door, hears someone moving around inside. Hears a noise like something got dropped, or rattled some furniture, and a gruff curse in Thor's voice. He's alive, then, which is good. Valkyrie tries very hard not to worry that one day she'll discover him… not alive. She isn't sure why she's worried in that way; Thor is having a rough time, but he's  _ Thor _ . He runs towards his problems, not away from them, that's what he has told her, over and over again. If he needs a few days to rest every so often, she's not about to begrudge him that. Hel, Odin used to take months'-long naps. This is a blip in the grand scheme of things.

The door gets yanked open, and Thor squints at her through a curtain of hair. He's shirtless, barefoot, in sweatpants and a robe that's been left open, showing off what used to be very well-defined muscles. They're harder to make out, now, but Valkyrie supposes it's mostly because Thor isn't as active as he was as a crown prince and Avenger. Or it might have something to do with the bottle dangling from his hand. 

She looks down at the beer she's brought, her stomach twisting as Thor breathes whiskey breath down at her. "For me?" he asks. 

She swallows heavily. "Looks like you got a head start on me," she manages to tease, pushing past him into the house. She tries not to feel uneasy at how familiar this is, how Thor might be... "What's the occasion?" She looks up at him askance as he shuffles into the living room behind her. 

Thor shrugs. "S'Tuesday," he says, as if that's any sort of real explanation. 

It's also inaccurate. "It's Friday." She glances around the dimly-lit room, the dusty light fixtures and the crackling but untended fire in the hearth. The curtains are pulled tightly closed. 

"Oh." 

She realizes she had expected a few things when she had come over. She had expected… a mood. Thor is inclined towards brooding and sullenness, and she had expected to bribe him out of bed with beer and food. She hadn't expected him to already be drunk when she got here. They drink together, not alone. They hadn't specifically said as much to one another, but Valkyrie had assumed she was the only one of the two of them who would need to make that promise. Her stomach twists again. 

"Has this been going on since Tuesday?" she asks, sitting down on the couch and motioning for Thor to join her. She keeps her tone casual; Thor probably won't react favorably to outward expressions of concern. She's tried that exactly once since - well, since. She's not good at doing it, and he's not good at accepting it, so she'd stopped. 

Thor sits too, though it's closer to a controlled fall, and lets out a noncommittal grunt. "I dunno," he dismisses, setting his bottle on the table and flipping open the first pizza box. "Thanks, I'm starving."

She nods, her fingers tracing the planes and angles of the beer case. She aches for it, the taste of it on her tongue, the feeling she knows it will bring - or lack of, as the case may be. She doesn't know why she's hesitating. Why she feels like she needs to… be sober, be, Norns forbid,  _ responsible. _ If she had an inkling that this was a common occurrence before… well, before, she wouldn't be worried. If Thor himself hadn't expressed such judgement and concern over her own drinking habits, it wouldn't have occurred to her that this isn't how Thor normally handles adversity. But then again, how well does she even really  _ know _ Thor?

Thor is demolishing the first pizza without even waiting for her, so she grabs a slice from the second box and eats slowly, just watching Thor wash the meal down with the dwindling contents of his whiskey. 

When the bottle is empty, he reaches for a beer. "Hey," she says, putting out a hand to get him to at least  _ pause _ . "What's this all about?" 

Thor shrugs, shaking her hand off and pulling a beer to himself. The sound of the can crack-hissing open makes her mouth water. One, she thinks. She could have one, bring the rest back home with her for… for emergencies. For just in case she needs it. 

Valkyrie pushes out her breath in a rush, trying to push out the cravings at the same time. She's been  _ trying _ , because she hasn't wanted to  _ disappoint _ her king. 

"Hey," she says, easing the can out of his hand, straddling his lap as she drains it herself. She wants to reach for another one. She wants oblivion to take away her memories of this awkward, uncomfortably candid look into Thor's mental state. She doesn't; instead, she pushes her hands through his hair, pulling it away from his face. It's tangled, and greasy. She remembers privately mourning the haircut the Grandmaster had forced onto him; he'd had beautiful hair, before she had… well. Done her job, at the time. She tries not to feel guilty about any of that. If she hadn't clocked Thor as a contender, she never would have gotten off Sakaar. It's not worth worrying over. 

It's easier with alcohol. Or, it used to be.

"Your Majesty," she says, forcing his head up to meet her gaze. He can't maintain it, looks away from her. "Thor."

"You should go," Thor murmurs, but his hands are on her waist now, his head resting against her collarbone. 

She presses a kiss to the crown of his head. "I don't think so," she says, and lowers her hands to grip his wrists. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm not leaving you like this." 

She expects him to get angry, to deny there's anything wrong. She expects him to normalize this, because to her - this is normal. But it's not normal for Thor, unless he is a much bigger hypocrite and a much better actor than she'd ever given him credit for. Instead, though, he sighs. 

With a squeeze of his wrists, Valkyrie slips off his lap, because she knows they both need a distraction. Tugging at his hand, she gets Thor to his feet and leads him into the bedroom.

Or, she leads them to the threshold, sees what the bed looks like, then leads them back to the living room. "Thor," she says. "What  _ is _ this?" 

"I - don't, uh, I'm not, uhm…" Thor looks around as if searching for an escape route. She keeps her hand on his. 

He can't come up with an answer, despite tripping over an explanation for a minute or two. It's really the only explanation she needs, and it makes her sad. Valkyrie has never held any illusions about her coping mechanisms being healthy or enviable. To see Thor like this is - upsetting. And she wants another beer, which is also upsetting. 

"Okay," she soothes. "It's okay. Just - come here." 

She lowers him onto the couch again, and does the only thing she can think of that will serve her king in this moment. Thor lets her, but she can tell his heart isn't in it. He thanks her when she has swallowed down his seed and tucked him back into his sweatpants, like she has just provided him a service he expects from her. 

It makes her feel sick, and a little dirty. The way she used to feel on Sakaar when the liquid haze lifted for more than a few moments. "So," she says. "I'm… gonna go. Just. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, okay," Thor sighs, already moved to lie down on the couch, reaching for the beer. She leaves it with him, and all but races out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is S.O.S. by ABBA.


	4. hate to break it to you, but it's out of my control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyrie confronts Thor.

She's halfway to Thor's house to have a conversation she really, truly hopes doesn't end in violence when her phone - actually Thor's phone for Official New Asgard Business - rings, the caller ID showing it's from what passes for the public safety office for the small village. What she's told when she answers comes as far less of a surprise than it would have three years ago. 

She takes her time walking back down to the building that houses the vast majority of New Asgard's public works and services offices, even stopping to pick up coffee. Two, though she purposefully messes up the order. Maybe it's petty, but she's getting awfully tired of this. She had thought she'd made it clear she was no longer interested in cleaning up the royal family's messes, even if the royal family now only consists of one extremely stubborn, self-destructive hypocrite. And yet, here she is, storming into Arnar's office to see the King of New Asgard, God of Thunder, Strongest Avenger, Titan-Slayer, Liberator of Sakaar, and so on and so forth, trying to convince poor Arnar that if he allowed Thor to leave, it would make him, in Thor's words, "a lot cooler than you're being right now."

Valkyrie hasn't prayed to anyone for over a thousand years, but she throws one Valhalla's way anyway, to give her strength for what she is about to have to do. "Get up," she demands. "Where is your shirt?" 

Thor shrugs and makes a noise that Valkyrie has learned translates roughly into "I don't know." 

"Fine. Get up." 

"Somebody's in a bad mood today," Thor comments, hefting his expanding bulk out of the chair he'd been slumped in, barely managing to stay upright. 

"Yep." If she keeps her responses here clipped and to the point, the less likely she is to scream at her King in a conspicuous place. And she has a great deal to scream about. 

"Is one of those for me?" Thor asks, nodding at the two cups of coffee in her hands, accepting the sweatshirt that gets handed to him - probably left from the last time Arnar had to deal with him. Valkyrie shoves one of the cups into his hand and Thor makes a face when he takes a sip. "What happened to the vanilla latte?" he asks.

"You get vanilla lattes when you deserve vanilla lattes," Valkyrie snaps, herding him out the door with an apologetic wave at Arnar. 

"Y'know, I think Arnar really doesn't like me," Thor is telling her as she guides him back, her hand gripping his upper arm with enough force that she is sure - and  _ hopes _ \- that he'll have bruises. "He didn't like me back on regular Asgard either." 

"Huh, were you as big of a pain in the ass then as you are now?" she asks, and where normally her tone would be teasing, this time it's as sharp as Dragonfang. 

He chuckles throatily at that, and if he has any idea what Valkyrie was originally looking for him to discuss, he's not letting on. Which means he probably has no idea what's coming. It almost makes her feel bad, but then she thinks about the upgrades to the school they won't be able to make for another few months now, and she steels her resolve.

"Come on," she demands when they reach his cabin. "We need to talk." 

That seems to get his attention. He looks almost nervous, now, but he rummages around on a cluttered shelf for a bottle, popping off the cover of his coffee cup and tipping a healthy measure of the liquor into the cup. Valkyrie is tempted to knock it from his hand. Is even more tempted to take it for herself. He won't look at her anymore. 

"Your Majesty."

Thor taps his fingers against the countertop, once. 

"Thor." Her patience, already wearing thin, snaps. "Sit down," she orders. He blinks in surprise and does as he's told, wrapping his hands around the cardboard cup. "I was on my way here when Arnar called," she begins. 

Thor snorts. "It wasn't even that big of a deal," he complains, taking a sip of his drink and screwing up his face in distaste. "I like vanilla lattes better," he informs her. 

"Thor. Focus." She takes a deep fortifying breath, because honestly? The scene with Arnar is nothing and if that's what Thor thinks she is going to talk to him about, he's going to be badly surprised. She'd had a whole speech in her head, about duty and responsibility and legacies. It had been a pretty good speech, striking just the right balance of anger and empathy.

When Thor looks at her again, it flies out of her mind because now she's looking at  _ him _ too. 

It's a strange phenomenon; you don't see the changes in someone you see every day until suddenly… you  _ see _ them, and suddenly Valkyrie  _ sees _ Thor, hunched in the chair, his belly resting on his thighs, sweatpants torn and dirty at the knees like he'd fallen. She would bet if she looked at his palms, they would be scraped. His hair is matted into dreadlocks, his beard a tangled nest hiding some of the puffiness of his face. In her mind's eye, she sees him as he once was, standing proud and tall and confident, superimposed over this new shell of a man she realizes she barely recognizes, physically and otherwise. 

"I  _ am _ focused," Thor grumps at her, downing the rest of his coffee and rising, shuffling over to the bowl full of ice and beer bottles on the end table next to the couch. He snatches two up and turns to her, offering one of the bottles. 

Valkyrie swallows. Its been months. She can practically taste it. And wouldn't it just be easier to let this go? Pretend she doesn't have something of massive importance to the kingdom to discuss with him? Pretend she isn't furious about the information she'd found? It would be easier, wouldn't it? She wouldn't have to yell at her king, and she wouldn't have to see the expression on his face when he tells him what she's going to tell him, and she wouldn't have to deal with the fallout. She could just drink with Thor and… let it go. She could, couldn't she? 

She reaches for the bottle, and the touch of cold glass on her fingertips jolts her back to reality. No. She can't. Duties, responsibilities, a legacy she is trying to uphold that isn't even hers. All of those things keep her from taking the bottle from Thor's hand and instead, she takes a step backwards. 

"I was looking over the accounting." She decides that, if she can't ignore the problem and drink until it goes away, she's just going to rip off the bandage. Make it easier for the both of them. "You've been spending… a  _ lot _ of money." 

Thor looks at her, puzzled. "So?" he asks, slamming the first bottle against Stormbreaker's axe head to pop the top. 

"So," Valkyrie says, "that's money that's coming from New Asgard's accounts. The money the people pay in taxes? The donations from Stark? The money that's supposed to go towards supporting our people?" 

She takes out her phone and pulls up the most recent balance statement. "See this?" She jams her finger at the screen. "See that number right there? That's you. Your monthly expenses are higher than the monthly expenses of  _ running this town _ . Which, by the way, I haven't seen you even  _ consider _ doing in… how long have we been here?"

"That's not -" Thor starts to protest, but Valkyrie throws up a hand. 

"I'm not done," she snaps. "I wouldn't be as pissed if I knew you were spending it on more than booze and video games, but I know for a fact you aren't." She'd requested all the purchase receipts for the accounts before she had realized where the discrepancy was coming from. "You're embezzling from your own treasury, Your Majesty." 

Thor looks thoroughly confused. "But I'm the king," he says, though it isn't said with any hint of bravado. Instead, he sounds… small, and a little doubtful. He twists the bottle back and forth in his hands. "On Asgard, merchants would simply settle my debts with the palace treasurer." His voice chokes off and he takes a drink to cover it. 

"Well, we don't have one of those anymore, and we don't exactly have unlimited gold to spend anymore, either," she explains, sharper than it could have been but softer than she expected it to come out. "And since you haven't been  _ acting _ like a king,  _ I've _ been handling the treasury. And everything else, by the way."

Thor's gaze darts away and he clears his throat. "I, ah, uhm." He tilts the bottle to his lips again, shaking his head. 

"Thor! Don't you even  _ care _ ?" 

That seems to do it. Thor slams the bottle down on the hearth mantle and turns to her. "Care about  _ what,  _ exactly?" he sneers, gesturing towards his grimy window overlooking New Asgard. "The Asgardians who don't need me? The Midgardians who don't want me? What, exactly, could you find for me to  _ care about _ ?" 

"Yourself, for one thing!" Valkyrie all but yells. "You're killing yourself and you're making me watch!" Drop by drop, day by day, Thor drifts further away from her, and from who he was. 

Thor rolls his eyes. "Oh please," he scoffs. "How long were you on Sakaar for, anyway?" It's pointed, and she squares her shoulders. 

"Longer than I should have been," she replies and takes a step forward. "And I didn't realize that until you. And seeing you in that place… like this… Thor, let me help." 

Thor turns away, back to the fireplace and his beer on the mantle. "I'm fine," he tells the fire. "I won't spend any more from the treasury. Sorry. You can go now, though." His voice is tight, her offer of help unwanted, as expected. 

She comes up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You're running away," she says. "I get that. I do. But you have people counting on you. You can't just hide yourself away and drink yourself to death." Thor stiffens, and she adds, "And you know I know what you're going through. So you could at least do me the courtesy of  _ trying _ ." 

He turns to her, laying his hand over hers on his shoulder. "I am," he says, but she doesn't believe him. He lies with an addict's lack of consideration. "I am." His eyes are filled with tears as he leans down to try and brush their lips together.

She puts up a hand. "Wait, what are you doing?" They haven't warmed each other's beds in ages now, Thor locking himself away and Valkyrie trying not to be resentful of the responsibilities heaped onto her. And as much empathy as she has for the man, she is not having  _ any _ amorous feelings towards him at the moment. She might not again, so thoroughly has he broken her trust, again and again. 

"I thought -" Thor stammers, and Valkyrie realizes that she needs to leave before she gives in. To Thor, to the drink, to letting it all slide away. 

She shakes her head. "No," she says. "Not anymore. Not for a while, at least." 

She isn't sure she has ever seen a man's heart rip into pieces more than once, but she's seen Thor's shatter at least three times now. "Ah, I, uh, I, of course, yeah. Of course." Thor rubs the back of his head with the hand that had been moving to cup her neck. 

The awkwardness that descends is deafening. "I need to get back to work," she says after a moment of staring at him, watching him grapple with the difficult reality she has forced him to face, when he so often tries to ignore it entirely. "Just - I -" She can't think of what else to say, so she doesn't. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is "Gravity" by The Dresden Dolls. It also includes a cameo by Arnar, who appears in Eurovision: The Story of Fire Saga.


	5. on the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor returns from space.

When Thor decides to leave with Rocket and the others, Valkyrie is almost relieved. Of course she misses him, but she misses her earlier memories of him. That's not the man he is anymore, though she's caught more glimpses of who he might someday become since the battle. It's someone she thinks she could get to like. 

She throws herself into her new title. With Thor not quite renouncing the throne the past five years, she had mostly focused on keeping things running the way they had from the beginning, familiar and comfortable. But now she's king, and she can shape New Asgard into something different. The excitement and the sheer time required keeps her mind off the bottle for the most part, partaking only rarely at official functions and then working hard to moderate herself, because it would be really stupid of her to give up this new life she has for the sake of a drink.

Then, one day more than a year later, a familiar spaceship lands in the meadow near what had been Thor's house. It takes every bit of decorum she possesses - which admittedly isn't a whole lot - not to run up to the ship immediately. Instead, she heads up at a leisurely pace as the ship's ramp lowers. 

She realizes that, for the first time in recent memory, she's nervous. Which is ridiculous, because this is just  _ Thor _ . But what state will he be in? Soon enough she gets her answer when she sees first a pair of heavy black boots, then a pair of blue jeans, then a soft Midgardian t-shirt, and then…

He looks better. He looks  _ so _ much better. He hasn't lost much weight, but he carries it differently. His hair is still in dreadlocks, but purposefully, now, halfway pulled back from his face with a leather cord, his beard braided and beaded. He's smiling a genuine smile and hands Stormbreaker off to someone Valkyrie can't see before jogging down the ramp to her. 

"Your Majesty," he greets her with a teasing bow, but then pulls her into a crushing embrace. He smells like clean laundry detergent and ozone. Not even a whiff of alcohol. 

"Are you here for good?" she asks into his shoulder, "or just to do some laundry?" 

"For good," he responds into her hair. 

"Good," she says, surprised at the lump in her throat that she has to speak around, at the tears in her eyes. "That's good."

Thor pulls away first, looking down at her with eyes that are clear and steady for the first time in… years. "I'm ready to try," he says, and he sounds like he means it. 

Valkyrie smiles. "Well then," she says, linking her arm in his, "let's get to work." 

-end-

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is "Heroes" by David Bowie. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> The song for this chapter is "Double Trouble" from Eurovision: The Story of Fire Saga.


End file.
